


give up, give in (check the grin you're in love)

by FanfictioningFangirl



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Bonding During Said Road Trip, Childhood Friends, Christmas, Christmas Morning, Driving Home from Uni, F/M, Friends to Lovers, MJ POV, Peter is in love and MJ is blind, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Slow-ish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanfictioningFangirl/pseuds/FanfictioningFangirl
Summary: The tips of his fingers brush against hers, and, somehow, the half-a-second of contact sends a chill down her spine.Peter opens his eyes, fingers finding hers again."Your hands are freezing," he whispers, taking her hand in his. "God, MJ." He sits up, squinting down at her. "Where's your sweater?""The car."He stares at her, forehead creased with a frown. "It's alright," she starts to say at the same time Peter says: "Come here."Or, Peter and MJ are driving home from uni
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 71
Kudos: 84
Collections: Twelve Days of Promptmas





	1. the day they leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts Used in this Chapter:  
> C26. Hot chocolate (-ish)  
> C32. Cross-country road trip  
> C65. All bundled up  
> D33. "Why are you staring at me?" "Nothing… you just look really cute right now"

MJ's not sure why she agrees when Peter asks if she'd like to drive back to Queens with him.

"Like a road trip?" she'd clarified when he asked her.

"Exactly!" Peter had said, eyes filled with an enthusiasm that used to be familiar not long ago and, despite herself, Michelle had shrugged and agreed.

They've talked more in the last week than they have since Freshman year. He texts her asking if she's cool with being spontaneous about where they eat stay, and MJ replies with a simple: ‘ _Sure’_.

There's no backing out after that. Peter sends her pictures of maps he's opened up on his laptop during finals week and MJ texts back with a picture of the large bag of snacks and supplies she's bought. They have a constant conversation about places they could stop at for the sake of scenery, but there's a storm warning for the week after they leave, and Peter insists that they shouldn't take their time and risk getting caught.

She's nervous when they finally meet — two days after the term ends. Nervous because it's been a while since she last talked to Peter properly, and longer still since they hung out like this; alone.

They'd chosen to go to Stanford after High School because it meant that they could stay together. Best friends at school and best friends through uni seemed like the best idea they'd ever had. Except, their timetables never lined up right, and MJ soon made friends in Pol Sci just as Peter made friends in Chemistry. They went from meeting every day to once a week, to once a month until it just stopped.

They still talk. They've been texting all week, obviously, and they stop to catch up every time they bump into one another. They tried to meet during the holidays too but didn't manage to meet as often as they'd hoped. It's just not the same as it used to be back at school, and there's a part of MJ that's scared that they'll never go back to being the way they were. 

"All set?" Peter asks, heaving her suitcase into the trunk of his red Honda. She's surprised he manages to pick it up — the Peter she's always known was weaker than MJ, and she’d nearly died trying to bring her things down.

"I might have been a bit paranoid," she tells Peter, gesturing towards everything she's piled into the backseat. She's got snacks, toilet paper, a first aid kit, insect repellent — just about anything you could imagine.

Peter smiles at her. "There's no harm in being prepared," he says. He's taller than her, MJ realises suddenly. He used to be shorter than her — she doesn't know when (or how) it happened. He's not taller by much, but something about the glint in his eyes tells MJ that Peter noticed too.

"You're taller," she says, climbing into the car.

"I am," Peter agrees.

"How?"

"Pull-ups," he says, and he shoots a grin in her direction as he turns the key and the car comes to life. "Seat-belt."

MJ curses under her breath, buckling herself in. "You're not allowed to be taller than me," she declares, watching Peter pull out of the driveway. They're leaving the parking lot now, and they'll be out of Stanford soon. _This is it_ , a voice whispers in her head. From now on they're on the road — it'll be just the two of them for the next four days, on their own. 

"Why?" Peter asks, and even though he's facing the road, MJ feels like she's being watched. It takes her a second to remember what they've been talking about.

"It's illegal," she declares.

Peter snorts, glancing at her quickly. "God, MJ. Though it is pretty nice being all the way up here, you know? You're missing out on some good weather."

"You're barely an inch taller."

He shrugs.

"Was it really just pull-ups?"

"Yep."

"I feel like you're lying."

"I'm not."

" _Peter_."

His eyes find hers again. Just for a second. " _MJ_."

She feels ten again, sitting next to Peter during lunch and arguing about something stupid. This, she realises, is also stupid. Though it feels important. She's been taller than him all her alive all their life, and then, they grow distant for just over a year and, all at once, Peter's taller.

"It's not fair," she says, and Peter grins.

"Life's not fair."

She used to say that all the time. MJ still does, sometimes, but her' _life's not fair_ ' phase was particularly centred around High-School. She's tempted to stick her tongue out at him, but Peter's watching the road, and it isn't nearly as satisfying to be childish if she isn't being watched.

It takes MJ a moment to realise that she never replied. That silence has fallen over them and that she has no idea how to fill it. MJ never felt awkward around Peter before, but she feels suddenly desperate to fill the silence. To keep the conversation going.

She'd stayed up last night thinking about this; about them. There's a part of MJ that's scared they'll suddenly realise they've forgotten how to be friends; that they'll realise they're both different to what they used to be, and that they've got nothing in common. There's a smaller part that hopes they'll get close again after this. Stupid as it sounds, even to herself, MJ wants to go back to being the way they used to be.

Or, if nothing else, she wants to go back to being friends. And for that, they need to talk. 

She racks her brain, trying to remember things about him. Things that used to matter. Like the way he'd always pick the tomatoes out of his food because 'they're disgusting' or if he still hates Inorganic Chemistry. All of it's too random right now though. There's nothing she has to say and, more than that; there's nothing she knows how to say just yet.

"Music?" MJ asks instead, voice unnaturally high. If Peter finds it odd, he says nothing.

"I should be connected," he says, picking up his phone from where it sits in the cup-stand that separates them and tossing it in her direction. "Password's still the same."

She remembers, of course. Ten Twenty-Seven. The day Ben died. MJ wonders if his classmates at uni know. She wonders if he talks to them the way he used to talk to her; if he still gets nightmares and if he has someone else he calls when he's at his lowest.

"Got it?" Peter asks.

"Yep," she says, and hits shuffle.

Peter sings. Of course he does. He rolls down the windows and cranks up the volume till it's deafeningly loud, and sings along. She should sing too. She could.

But MJ opts to kick off her shoes instead, crossing her legs and leans her head against her window, watching Peter as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, singing terribly out-of-tune. She wonders why they gave up on being best-friends so easily.

Life would have been easier if Peter was still her best friend.

* * *

"Em?"

She wakes up with a start, sitting up straight and becoming instantly aware of the sharp pain in her neck. They've stopped.

"Where are we?" she mumbles.

"We just crossed into Nevada," Peter says. "Figured we might as well stop for lunch."

She stretches in her seat, unbuckling the seat-belt. "I _am_ hungry," she mumbles, her brain only dimly aware of the fact that she's awake and talking out loud. Peter chuckles from next to her. He hasn't moved yet.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Nothing," Peter says. "You just look really cute right now."

MJ feels her cheeks go warm. He's still looking at her. _Staring_ at her. The smug smile that had been plastered to his face when she'd realised he's grown taller than her is back, and it makes MJ feel oddly self-conscious.

She grabs her shoes, untying and retying the laces if only to keep herself from staring back at Peter. He still hasn't moved, and something about the prickling feeling at the back of her neck makes MJ feels like she's still being watched.

"Let's go?" she asks, climbing out of the car before Peter has the chance to reply.

She didn't feel this awkward around him before. She wasn't always this nervous or jumpy or — MJ shivers as the chilly-December air hits her.

"It's cold, isn't it?" Peter asks. He's already opened the rear-door, scooping up the extra layers they'd discarded the moment the car had gotten warm enough. He tosses her sweater at her, and MJ catches it deftly, quickly tugging it over her head.

"Coat?" he asks.

"Sure."

He shuts the door with a bang, watching MJ put on her coat.

"Wait," he says, as she straightens the sleeves, and he takes a step towards her. He's carrying her scarf, MJ notices. And her hat. 

He lifts her hair, wrapping the scarf snuggly around her neck while taking care to keep her hair from getting trapped underneath, and then he pulls her woollen hat over her head, half-covering her eyes. She's not sure why Peter decided to help her out, but it's making it suddenly impossible for MJ to breathe.

"All bundled up," he declares, and MJ, adjusting her hat so that she can see again, rolls her eyes at him.

"Loser," she says, and Peter winks at MJ. His eyes gleaming with amusement and something more than MJ can't quite place. There's an uncomfortable knot in her stomach for some reason, and her cheeks feel suddenly warm in spite of the cold. MJ looks away from Peter, willing herself to calm down. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her.

They've parked outside a McDonalds. They order two meals, and Peter spends most of lunch attempting to steal MJ's French Fries. He talks about how he nearly slept through his Thermo final. She rants about her American Politics Prof. They're not talking about anything important yet — it's just casual small talk — but it feels like a start.

And it feels good.

"Seven hours to Salt Lake City," Peter says as they're leaving. "We could stop for a quick snack on the way, but I'd rather we reached in time for dinner." He stops at the car, hand hovering above the handle. "Wanna drive?"

"I'd love to."

* * *

It's easier to drive, MJ decides.

She has something to focus on that isn't Peter, which is quickly becoming harder than MJ had anticipated. On the flip side, even now, MJ can feel Peter's eyes on her. Something about the intensity of his gaze catches her off guard. She feels like she's made of glass when he stares at her like that — it's as though, if he tried, he'd be able to see through all the walls she's built around herself.

Not that he needs to. MJ's always told Peter more than she's ever told anyone else. He knows her best in the world, and it stings to think that they let themselves get lost in the hustle of uni. They’ve always been better together, for as long as MJ can remember. They’re supposed to be the ultimate team.

That said, Peter isn't half as good as MJ is when it comes to giving directions. They go around the roundabout twice, and MJ has to take a U-turn and back up because they somehow end up off the main road and away from the highway, but they're out of Reno soon enough.

Peter turns on the radio this time, the volume no longer deafeningly high, and MJ hums along to the Christmas collection they've got playing, dimly aware of the fact that Peter's doing the same.

"Oh!" he exclaims when Mariah Carey starts playing, and MJ shoots a frown at him as Peter leans forward to crank up the volume.

" _I don't want a lot for Christmas,_ " he starts to sing, prolonging the initial ‘I’ and somehow managing to get horribly out-of-sync at once. MJ has to resist the urge to laugh at him. The song picks up quickly, and she can feel Peter practically dancing in the passenger's seat.

And MJ sings along. Because fuck it. Because they're on a road trip, and it would be blasphemous not to belt out the lyrics to something and because Peter's enthusiasm has always been contagious. The next song comes up, and they go on. When the radio-jockey comes in to start talking, Peter quickly swaps the radio for a playlist on Spotify, and suddenly they're rapping to Kendrick Lamar at the top of their lungs, off-beat and out of sync and MJ honestly couldn't care.

It's the most alive she's felt in months.

When they stop at last, her throat aches from singing.

MJ buys hot chocolate, if only because that used to be their thing. Hot chocolate on Christmas morning that her Mum would make for MJ and Peter while they sat on the small dining table that used to sit in their kitchen. That had been years before college, back when home wasn't synonymous with hell. She can still picture Peter at their dining table, telling MJ about the Santa Maria Crater on Mars and spewing facts she'd never realised he knew.

Peter buys hot chocolate too, and MJ almost asks him if he remembers Christmas at her place, but the words never leave her head.

They sit down at the window, watching the Christmas lights come on as evening fades into night. They don't talk much now, but MJ doesn't feel desperate to fill the silence this time. She's content with staring out of the window or, when Peter isn't watching, staring at him.

"We should do this more often," Peter says suddenly.

And MJ nods. She'd like that. A lot.

* * *

It's nearly ten when they stop at Salt Lake City.

Peter books them into a rundown hotel off the highway. They get a single room with two beds because Peter insists that it's not safe for her to sleep in a different room.

She's already packed for this, with her toothbrush, pyjamas and a spare set of clothes neatly stuffed into her backpack. Peter's less prepared. They stand next to the trunk for an age, MJ holding up her phone with her flashlight on and Peter digging through his suitcase for his stuff.

They've been quieter this final stretch. Only speaking up when MJ has to give directions, or that one time they stopped to take in the view. Her Mum called about an hour ago to ask where they'd reached, and MJ sends another text now telling her parents that they've stopped for the night. That Peter's still with her. That they're safe.

They get to the room eventually. MJ takes the bathroom first, showering quickly. Peter's already changed into his pyjamas when she gets back. He's half-buried in his bed, squinting at his phone.

"May says hello," he says.

"Oh. Tell her I said hi."

"Done that." He looks up at her, grinning at MJ. "Was checking out the route for tomorrow. I think we should be able to make it across Nebraska by nightfall if we set out early enough. That way we can aim to be home by Thursday at the latest. If we push it, we could try for the day after too."

"Thursday's fine," she says, sitting down on her bed. Mum wants her home before Friday, and MJ's not particular about reaching before then. She’d rather delay her return as much as possible, to be honest. Though, MJ doubts Peter feels the same. "Do you miss home?" she asks quietly. "When we're at uni?"

"I miss May. Sometimes I hate that we chose Stanford, you know. It would have been nice being closer to home — just so that we could visit more often." He puts his phone to the side and rolls over so that he's facing her. MJ slides under her blanket, head propped up on her pillow starting right back at Peter.

"Do _you_ miss home?" he asks her.

"Not a lot." Not nearly enough. "I guess home just wasn't a great place to be when we left."

"Do they still —?" Peter asks. "Do they still fight?"

"I don't know," she whispers. "I don't have the guts to ask Nate, but it's scary, you know? Every time they disagree or argue, I'm just that much more desperate to get away. Uni feels safer. Happier."

She's never admitted that part to anyone. MJ's mastered the art of whining about missing home every time Cindy and Betty go on about it. It's easier to pretend like everything's perfect when she's at Stanford. It's her safe bubble — the one place where her parents' arguments can't touch her. And even then, even outside uni, Peter's the only one who knows the truth.

He's the only one she's ever been able to talk to about any of it.

"You can visit us if you need a break," he says, reaching for the light and encasing them in darkness. "May still loves you. I think she hated when we didn't get to hang out last summer." And then, when MJ doesn't reply, he says: "Goodnight?"

"Goodnight," she whispers.

MJ doesn't fall asleep though.

She stays awake for what feels like an age, listening to Peter's quiet breathing and mulling over their day. MJ doesn't know why they gave up on being friends so easily — why she gave up so easily. It wouldn't have killed them to meet at night, or during the summer. Even when MJ had her internship and Peter spent two weeks with the Starks, they still had days when they could have met; when they could have hung out.

MJ wonders if she would have been different now if she'd stuck with Peter at uni. She doesn't know if she'd have bothered to get close to Cindy, Betty, and others given a choice. 

Because, sure, she's got more friends now than she did at school. But Peter had been closer than anyone in her too-large group is now. Peter knows her in a way that none of her friends at Stanford ever will. She used to be able to talk to him about things she'd never bring up in front of Cindy or Betty or Abe. She misses that: their late-night conversations, their constant stream of texts. Everything.

"Peter?" she whispers.

"Yeah?" Peter mumbles, and he sounds half asleep.

"I've missed us."

"I've missed us too," he says, rolling over so that his back towards her.

MJ smiles into the darkness, sleep finally finding her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reread of this chapter reminded me that it's just setting up the scene, but fear not for I will be posting every alternate day until Christmas-eve-eve (aka 23rd)  
> Why are they studying at Stanford, you ask? Well, I found out that Queens is basically on the East Coast and Stanford was as far as I could get within US. Though, if anyone ever builds a university in the ocean, I'd be the first to send Spideychelle there instead.
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot, and if you're following me on my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fanfictioningfangirl) you probably witnessed me panicking when I realised that it was too long to be a one-shot. So now you've got four chapters instead! 
> 
> Fair warning, I've barely edited this because life is busy and I really should be doing other things right now. I have never been to US, but I did attempt to plan their whole trip on Google Maps (including the McDonalds and the coffee shop they visit) but if there are any inaccuracies, you can always let me know here or on Tumblr  
> As always, thanks for reading!!


	2. the second day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts Used in this Chapter:  
> C13. Cold, sleepy cuddles (-ish)  
> C26. Hot chocolate (-ish pt. 2)  
> C59. Only one bed  
> C72. Icy sidewalks  
> D6. "All I want for Christmas is you!" "You're Jewish" "So?"  
> D7. "Your hands are freezing!"  
> D11. "It's hand holding season."  
> D37. "Stay in bed. It's warmer."

Peter's already up and about when MJ wakes up.

She can hear him moving around the room even before she opens her eyes. There's a chilly draft blowing through the room, and MJ's glad for the sweater she'd grabbed before leaving the car.

"Morning," she mumbles, sitting up and blinking at Peter.

He stops what he's doing. Freezes, rather, and it takes MJ a moment to realise that his shirt's off. It's not that MJ hasn't seen Peter with his shirt off before — they've gone swimming loads as kids — but there's something about right now that feels different.

He's grown. Muscled up. His sudden burst of strength yesterday, when they'd piled her belongings into the car, makes sense now. She wonders if he works out; half the guys in her class work out, but it's odd picturing the Peter Parker she's always known heading to the gym each morning.

"Um, MJ?" Peter says, bringing her back to the present, and it's with a jolt of embarrassment that MJ realises she's been staring.

She turns, her face feels warm, her heart's hammering against her chest uncomfortably and Peter — Jesus, he probably thinks she's mad.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—

"You can look now," Peter says, and MJ swears his voice is buried with laughter. Like he's amused by MJ and her stupid half-asleep brain.

"What's the plan for today?" she asks. It's an attempt to distract him from her lapse of judgement, but something about the look Peter gives her makes MJ feel like he doesn't buy it.

He sits down at her bed, and the knot in MJ's stomach is back making it impossibly hard for her to meet Peter's eye.

"I figured we could snack for breakfast and stop for a heavy brunch in about four hours," Peter says, leaning over so that she can see him zoom in on the map. "Somewhere near Rock Springs. And then, caffeine and a loo break around four. If we want to reach home by tomorrow, we'd have to reach Iowa City by tonight, but—"

"Thursday's fine," MJ says.

Peter's eyes find her, and something about the way he looks at her makes MJ feel warm on the inside. "Yeah," he says. "That."

"How long is the drive to Iowa City?"

"About seventeen hours. Plus another two or three hours for breaks."

"So it's impossible."

"It doesn't have to be."

MJ rolls her eyes at him. She sits up, because something about the way Peter's half leaning on MJ makes her feel nervous, and says: "You do know that Road Trips aren't supposed to be stressful, right? We don't need to get home by tomorrow."

"I know. It'd just be cool—"

"—and tiring."

He grins at her. "Fine," Peter says, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "We won't push for tomorrow. Though I still expect you to get ready in ten."

"Oh?" MJ says, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Yes," Peter says, and he leans forward, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin. MJ closes her eyes at the touch, pushing back a smile.

"Go," Peter says again, and MJ feels his weight disappear from her bed. She sighs deeply, and, bracing herself for the cold, MJ gets out of bed.

* * *

They manage to make it to Rock Springs for lunch.

MJ finds a coffee shop just off the main road, and they settle for hot chocolate and bacon, egg, and cheese bagel sandwiches. There's Christmas music blaring on the speakers inside, which shouldn't be a surprise at this point. Peter's eyes gleam with excitement as _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ plays for what feels like the millionth time since they left Stanford, and MJ rolls her eyes at him, sipping at her hot chocolate.

They could get back into the car immediately after; but it's still early in the day, and MJ's legs feel stiff from sitting in the car all of yesterday so, when almost nervously, Peter asks if she'd like to walk around for a bit, MJ instantly says yes.

"Just for ten," Peter tells her, and MJ nods knowing just as well as Peter that neither of them is particularly good at being on time, or sticking to schedules.

They set off, away from the main road, deeper into town, Peter humming under his breath and MJ staring into each shop they pass, taking in the Christmas decorations.

"Oh, all the lights are shining so brightly everywhere, and the sound of children's laughter fills the air," she hears him sing; barely audible but unmistakable to MJ's ears.

She rolls her eyes at Peter, digging her elbow into his side. He makes a face at her, still singing, and playfully shoves her back. Except, the street's icy from the cold and, caught off-guard, MJ slips, her leg skidding on the ice and— she doesn't fall.

Peter grabs her hand, quickly supporting her, palm pressed against the small of her back. He pulls her upright, still holding on, and she's dimly aware of how close he is. MJ takes a step back, willing herself to turn away, but Peter's fingers are still curled around her wrist.

He's awkwardly moving from side to side, lips moving silently. And then, without any warning, he spins her on the spot, singing:

"Baby, all I want for Christmas... is you".

She half-laughs at him, half-lets out a strangled sound of protest as Peter brings her to a halt and points at MJ in time with the final _you_. She can't believe he just did that. The few others on the street are staring at them, and MJ feels her cheeks go warm. "You're Jewish," she says feebly.

"So?" Peter asks, finally letting go of her.

She raises her hands, trying to gesticulate feelings that her brain hasn't yet found the right words for. "How are you this obsessed with Christmas music?" MJ asks at last.

Peter grins, shrugging at her. "I'm obsessed with all music," he says. "And anyway, it's hard to avoid Christmas when half of America is obsessed with it. Though I won't lie, the closest I've come to celebrating is when I'd help you put up the tree. Remember how your Mum would make hot chocolate for us?"

 _He remembers_ , her brain cheers, and MJ beams at him. "God, yes. Every time you'd visit in the winter. For years."

"I won't lie, nothing we've had so far has been half as good as what your Mom would make us."

MJ rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, today's wasn't bad." And, because she doesn't want this trip to be a one-off thing, and also because she would like to meet Peter even when they're back in Queens, MJ adds: "Nate gets her to make it every Christmas. If you want to come over or something."

"Or something," Peter echoes. "Is that an invitation?"

"It might be."

He grins at her. "I'll be there."

* * *

He falls asleep the moment they climb back into the car.

MJ puts on a quiet playlist to fill the silence. She stares at him when she stops at a red-light. He's leaning against the window; neck bent awkwardly.

She'd been scared that Peter would feel like a stranger. MJ knows she's changed since freshman year and a part of her had wondered what it would be like if they realised they had nothing in common anymore. They've quickly gotten over that stage though. They're starting to feel almost normal, and MJ's glad for that.

She talked to him about everything that had happened with Brad and the general hell that was her third term during their drive in the morning. Peter'd reached out, taking her hand in his and holding it tight. He'd then told her about Pepper Potts, and Mr Stark's daughter who'll be ten soon, and how she calls him about school stuff all the time. (In a quiet voice, he tells her that he wishes Tony Stark was still around. That he still gets nightmares sometimes. That Ned's the only one at college who knows about what really went down.)

It surprises her how easily they go back to being them. There used to be a time when they'd hang out every day after class. They'd either find a place to sit, or they'd walk around town. MJ ranting about her parents, and Peter telling her about his nightmares.

It used to feel like they were in a world of their own; away from the chaos in the street, and, even though most nights would end with Peter disappearing into the traffic to go save the day, their conversations meant that he trusted her just as MJ trusted Peter.

And, the fact that they're talking now is a reminder that he still trusts her. That they're still friends despite how little they've hung out off-late. The thought warms MJ's heart, and she smiles at herself, glad that, Peter isn't awake to question her about it.

But even though everything feels better, MJ still feels nervous. She'd felt jumpy when Peter had leaned close that morning, and she feels herself go warm every time he stares too long. Her heartbeat seems louder when he talks to her and holds her. Something about Peter's presence still scares her, and MJ hates that she can't place a finger on what.

* * *

She wakes Peter up at five, and they take a break to fuel up and split a too-large pizza.

"We should have had this for lunch," Peter tells her, halfway through his third-slice.

"Time's a social construct," she tells him. "So eat when you're hungry and fuck meal timings."

"Literally?" he asks, the ends of his lips quirked in a smile. MJ kicks him under the table, just so that Peter knows that he's not funny. In response, he raises his hands in mock defeat, eyes still gleaming with amusement.

The first lights have started to come on by the time they're done, and linking his arm through hers, Peter says: "We're going to walk."

"We don't need to hold hands," she tells him, frowning.

"We do," Peter says at once. "It's hand holding season, you know. And anyway, this —" he lifts his elbow, raising MJ's arm in the process "— is not holding hands." He pulls his arm out of hers, entwining their fingers. "This is."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "So we're holding hands now?" she asks.

"Yes."

MJ rolls her eyes at him. "Whatever you say," she mumbles, ignoring the heat that rushes to her cheeks.

They take their time walking through town, peering at the decorations in the shop windows and talking about home.

"Mom's taking me to visit her family as soon as we get back," MJ tells him. "And then we're visiting Dad's parents the week after."

"So you're not really going home," Peter says, and he tugs her closer as another couple passes them.

"No," MJ says. "Though I don't mind, to be honest. Dad's not coming to Manhattan with us, and if Mom keeps her cool when we're all together, that's one week of peace I'm guaranteed."

Peter stops walking. "Is it really that bad?" he asks, brow furrowed and lips curved in a frown.

MJ shrugs. "It's fine," she says making to move, but they're still holding hands, and Peter's standing still.

He pulls his hand out of hers, and MJ's surprised at how her body instantly misses the contact. _Misses him_. But not for long.

Peter cups her cheeks, eyes boring into hers. It feels like he's trying to read her. Like he can read her. Her heart's pounding for some reason, blood rushes to her cheeks.

"Em," he says softly, and she tears her gaze away from him. He hasn't called her that in a while. "You're okay, right?"

I'm fine, she wants to say, but the words never leave her head. And Peter sighs, pulling her against him. He holds MJ tight, rubbing her back comfortingly, and MJ lets herself lean into him.

"I'm here for you, okay?" he says, and MJ nods into his shoulder.

He feels like an anchor, keeping her in this world and making sure she doesn't float away. There's a small part of her that wishes he'd never let go. (A part of her that's scared shell drift of if he does.)

But Peter lets go.

He holds onto her hand until they get back to the car, and then, they're off.

* * *

It's almost two when they check into a roadside hotel at Omaha.

The room's smaller than the last place they stayed at, though the lights are just as dull as the last place they'd stayed at. Normally, nothing bothers MJ more than the dim, yellow lights at cheap hotels, but this time, something else catches her eye. MJ stops dead at the door frame, the familiar gnawing feeling back in her stomach.

There's only one bed.

"Peter," she turns to say, but she doesn't need to explain. He's standing behind her. He's seen it too. 

"I'll take the armchair."

"No."

He drops his bag, pulling his phone out of his pocket and, before MJ can protest, sinks into the worn-out armchair that sits against the wall.

"For fuck's sake, you've been driving all day."

"So?"

_"Peter."_

Lips quirked. Eyes flashing with a challenge. _"MJ."_

"I'm not sleeping on the bed if you aren't."

 _"Oh,"_ he says, and if she didn't know better, MJ would have sworn he was flirting. He doesn't move, though. MJ doesn't either.

She throws her hands in the air, glaring daggers at him, and sits down on the carpeted floor. "You know I'm more than capable of being stubborn," MJ says, hugging her knees to her chest. Peter stares at her warily. She can tell he's trying to find a way out of this. That he knows just as well as she does that MJ won't settle for anything less than fair.

"I could ask for another room," he says, sliding off the chair. MJ wonders, for a fleeting second, if Peter's going to hug her again and instantly hates the disappointment that tugs at her heart when he sits down opposite her instead.

"It's late, and it's fine," she says. "Really."

Peter's still staring at her. Brow furrowed and with an intensity that makes MJ squirm. 

"Fine," he says, and she grins, climbing onto the bed and pulling out her phone to catch up on a day's worth of news while Peter heads to the bathroom to change. He's quiet when he gets out, sitting on the edge of the bed and eyes not fully meeting hers. Agreeing to sleep on the same bed hadn't seemed like a big deal, but MJ's suddenly aware of how small the bed is and, more than that, of how close they'd be.

He's asleep when MJ gets out of the shower. She lifts her backpack onto the armchair, digging through it for her stuff. She pulls her hair into a loose pony-tail, dumps her day's clothes into the cloth bag she's using as a laundry bag. The cold hits her as MJ takes the towel off her shoulders, and she digs through the bag for the sweater she'd worn last night.

It's not there.

MJ glances back, scanning the room, knowing already that she didn't bring it up. It's probably still in the car.

She swears in her head, tugging at the thin sleeve of her pyjama top. _She's going to freeze._

She has half-a-mind to go out and fetch it from the car, but it'll probably be colder outside. And anyway, MJ doesn't fancy wandering around the place all alone at night. She just prays that the blanket is thick enough to keep her warm.

Her gaze falls on the bed and, inevitably, on Peter. He's been careful to stick to his side of the bed, but her mind still wanders to how he'd held her before. MJ doesn't think her heart could handle being this close to Peter again, and yet, the more sensible part of her brain argues that she can't stand by and watch him all night either.

She climbs into bed, careful not to disturb Peter. MJ would have stacked a line of pillows between them if she could, but the bed only barely fits the two of them, and a wall of pillows would have definitely ended up with Peter or MJ on the floor.

They're close enough that MJ can feel the heat radiating from his body. The bed shifts with each breath Peter takes, his chest rising and falling, and MJ lets herself stare. They've never done this before. They're not touching, but every cell on her skin seems to be hyper-aware of Peter. Of how close he is. Of the curve of his lips, and how long his lashes are and the way the hair on his eyebrow looks like it's been combed in the wrong direction—

The tips of his fingers brush against hers, and, somehow, the half-a-second of contact sends a chill down her spine.

Peter opens his eyes, fingers finding hers again.

"Your hands are freezing," he whispers, taking her hand in his. "God, MJ." He sits up, squinting down at her. "Where's your sweater?"

"In the car."

He stares at her, forehead creased with a frown. "It's alright," she starts to say at the same time Peter says: "Come here."

He tosses an arm around her, pulling her towards him. Against him. She can feel the way his muscles tense. His breath tickles her chin, his hand has found hers again, and MJ welcomes the warmth instantly.

And yet, she feels nervous.

MJ squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to fall asleep. If she'd been aware of his proximity before, she's hyper-aware of him now. Of herself. Of the way her heart hammers against her chest, her breath mingling with his. She's torn between pulling away from Peter and curling up closer. They're just friends, MJ reminds herself. He's just doing this to keep her warm. _They're just friends_ , and yet, she doesn't feel convinced.

"You good?" he whispers, and she's caught by surprise. MJ'd been certain he'd fallen asleep again.

"Yeah," she whispers. "You?"

He shifts, pulling MJ closer, her legs between his and her nose pressed against his chest. "Never been better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It probably doesn't matter, but this chapter was honestly my favourite to work on. It's completely self-indulgent, right from the icy sidewalks to the only one bed and I think the only reason I wrote the fic was for this chapter. So I really hope you enjoyed!  
> Friendly reminder that I don't stay in the US AND this fic has gone through minimal editing (I'll come back and fix it when I have time in the New Year) but if there's anything glaringly wrong let me know!  
> As always, thanks for reading!!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fanfictioningfangirl) !


	3. day three and the day after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts Used in this Chapter:  
> C13. Cold, sleepy cuddles (-ish, pt. 2)  
> D37. "Stay in bed. It's warmer."  
> D43. "Isn't it beautiful?"  
> D50. "Don't let the fact that I'm freezing my ass off out here fool you; I'm having a great time."

She wakes up to the sound of Peter's alarm.

He lets go of her, reaching for the bedside table to turn it off, and for one terrible moment, she's on her own. And then, all at once, he's back against her, his arms around MJ, and his face in her hair. She's dimly aware of the fact that she's never slept better. Of how comfortable she feels pressed against him, and of how perfectly they fit.

"What's the time?" she whispers.

"Half-five."

They're supposed to leave early today, MJ remembers. That's why he'd set the alarm. "I should get ready," she says, making to get up, but Peter holds onto her. 

"Stay in bed," he whispers into her hair. "It's warmer. We'll leave in a bit."

She shouldn't, MJ thinks, even as she sinks deeper into bed, closing her eyes. She really shouldn't.

(She does.)

* * *

When she next wakes up, he isn't holding her.

MJ reaches out towards where Peter had been sleeping, but his side of the bed is cold. He's been gone a while. From the window, sunlight streams into the room -- not warm enough, and yet, oddly comforting. MJ stretches, grabbing her phone. There's a text from Peter that tells her that he left ten minutes ago and that he'll be back soon. MJ sighs, flopping back into her bad and holding her phone to her chest as she stares at the ceiling.

Her thoughts wander back to last night. To how Peter had felt against her; to how he'd held onto her early today morning. The smallest of smiles tugs at the tips of her lips. She'd liked it, MJ thinks, closing her eyes. The warmth of his body, half on top of her. The way she'd felt safe curled up against him. It had felt like home. _Peter_ had felt at home.

Her eyes fly open, and MJ sits up, her heart hammering against her chest. The knot in her stomach is back, and her cheeks feel warm, but she shakes it off.

She should get ready. Peter will probably want to leave as soon as he gets back.

* * *

The door flies open just as MJ's doing her hair.

"I got breakfast!" Peter says, and she jumps, startled. 

He shouldn't make her nervous now, not after they spent the night together, but the feeling in her stomach somehow intensifies when Peter comes to stand right next to her and MJ's surprised she manages a nonchalant: "What did you get?"

Peter doesn't reply, though. He's staring at her intently, eyes narrowed. "You missed a—" he says, stepping forward and brushing his thumb over her cheek. MJ's breath hitches. She takes a step back, if only for the sake of her sanity.

Peter doesn't seem to notice, though. He raises his hand, and sitting on the pad of his thumb is a single eyelash.

"Make a wish," he says excitedly, grabbing her hand and carefully pressing his thumb to the centre of her palm, leaving behind the eyelash.

MJ rolls her eyes at him. "Why?" she challenges.

"Why not?" Peter replies. And then, "Please?" He's looking at her oddly again, and her heart's started to act funny, and her cheeks feel like they're on fire and Jesus. Why is he stressing her out this much? It's just a stupid eyelash.

She huffs. Rolls her eyes again. Then closes them for a second, and blows at her palm, too distracted to come up with something to wish for. Peter's still holding onto her hand, and when she opens her eyes, MJ's struck by how close he's standing.

She takes a second step back, but Peter's already moved on.

"Are you ready to go?" he asks, stepping away, and scanning the room. Like it was nothing. Like he isn't thinking of last night over and over again the way she is. _It was nothing_ , MJ reminds herself. They're friends. He was keeping her warm. That's all.

And yet, her skin still feels warm where he'd just held her. Like his touch has been seared into her memory. Like – MJ shakes her head, gaze following Peter as he hurriedly stuffs his belongings into his backpack.

"We'll eat in the car," Peter says. "I've found a nice place for lunch, but we'll have to figure out the rest of today's route then."

And then they're off.

* * *

They don't bother with music today. Peter rants about his Organic Professor, and MJ talks about the mammoth-skeleton at Lincoln that she'd have loved to visit if they had more time.

For most of the morning, though, she stares out of her window, trying to take in the countryside as they speed past it. The GPS tells them that it's another seventeen hours to Queens which, to MJ, means that they won't be able to reach by tonight. They've got at least another day together, and the thought of it both excites MJ and scares her.

Not for the first time since they left, her thoughts go back to last night. It feels wrong to be thinking about it now; during the day. But, every time they fall quiet, and there's no string of conversation to keep her distracted, MJ's thoughts wander.

She'd wished, at Julesburg, that he'd hold onto her forever. But now, as they speed through Iowa, she finds herself wishing they'd stayed in bed for longer too. She wonders why he left to get them breakfast, and, more than that, if he's thinking about it too. 

Peter turns, as though he feels her watching, and he raises his eyebrows at her for just a second before turning back to the road.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she says. Whispers. 

"So," Peter says, "May wants you to come over for dinner once we're back."

"I'm pretty sure Mom will call you over too," MJ admits. "She's always asking about you, you know? Every time she calls. It's kind of sad, really."

"Why?" Peter asks, and his eyes find hers. "Don't you like talking about me?"

MJ rolls her eyes. "Not particularly," she says. "No."

"Ouch."

He's looking at her again, for longer than a moment this time, and MJ swears her heart swells. There's a part of her that hates the fact that they've only got two days left. One and a half, even. She's barely texted anyone other than her Mom since they left, and it's slowly starting to feel like they're the only people in the world. The only people that matter, at least.

Worse still, the thought of going home still fills her with dread. She's not looking forward to meeting her Dad's family in part because they've never really gotten along, but mostly because that'll be a full week they spend in a crowded and bustling house. If her parents lose their shit then, MJ'll definitely be the one interrogated about it.

Worst of all, the thought of not being able to meet Peter every day once they're back scares her. She knows she's only busy for a week, but there's a part of MJ that wonders if the distance will push them back into old-habits where they forget to meet or find something else to do.

They've slipped back into something similar to what they were before Stanford, and MJ's desperate to cling onto it.

There's a part of her that suspects, or hopes, that Peter feels the same way too.

At lunch, he hovers in front of their table after he grabs their tacos from the counter, looking like he's trying to solve an equation in his head. And then, with a shrug, he slides into the space next to MJ rather than across from her. 

He's sitting close enough that his knee bumps into hers every now and then. Once they're done eating, he scoots closer, resting a head on MJ's shoulder while she squints at Google maps, trying to plan the road they should take.

Her face feels constantly flushed, and MJ blames it on the cold. But yet, as they walk back to the car, the back of Peter's hand brushing against hers, MJ realises that she doesn't really believe herself anymore. That deep down, even she knows she's lying.

* * *

It's her idea to pick up dinner when they stop in the evening. They're walking around Toledo when she spots a Burger King across the road, and MJ says: "We could get takeaway and eat by the lake instead of stopping for dinner," MJ says. "It'd save us time."

Peter's immediately on board.

When it gets dark, Peter drives them off the highway, parks the car and they walk down to the banks of Lake Michigan. They sit on the ground, their backs against a bench, and they stare into the horizon. It's funny how, in spite of the fact that they're practically in Chicago, the world has never felt more quiet or empty. The cold winter wind blows against them, and MJ's teeth chatter until she's got a few bites of her _Impossible Whopper_ inside of her.

And all along, despite how bloody cold it is, MJ feels warm on the inside. She doesn't think she's ever felt more at home or more in love with the universe.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Peter says, and she feels him shiver against her.

"You're cold," she says, and without thinking through it, she presses the back of her hand to his cheek. Peter flinches, pulling away. 

"Cold!" he hisses, swatting away her hand. MJ freezes, eyes wide. Peter stares back at her. And, all at once, they're both giggling. 

"Loser," she mumbles, remembering a time when she'd always call him that.

"Says the person who tried to freeze me alive," Peter retorts, but there's a soft edge to his voice. Something more serious. MJ can feel him watching her again, and this time, she raises her brows at him in question.

Peter shakes his head in dismissal, snaking an arm around her waist and leaning against her.

"Don't let the fact that I'm freezing my ass off out here, fool you; I'm having a great time," he tells her.

"Me too," MJ says. And then, she adds: "I'm not ready to go back just yet. I like it here." Right now. At the lake. With Peter. She means all of it at once. 

"Everything feels infinite, you know?" Peter says. His voice has dropped to a whisper. As though he's scared of disturbing the silence that surrounds them.

And MJ gets that. "It makes me feel small," she says quietly. "Like, no matter how important everything feels, nothing really matters in the grand scheme of things."

"But it's special too," Peter says at once, and his arm disappears from around her waist as Peter turns so that he's facing her. "Put it like this. The probability of you being born is one in about four hundred trillion. The probability of us meeting? Exponentially less than that. The probability of us being here, right now? Practically zero. And yet," Peter says. "We're here. Together."

"That's different," she says, rolling her eyes at him. "We chose this. Maths is constant; it's well defined. You can't predict something as indefinite as a choice with math."

"Of course you can," Peter says. "I mean, the probability of us hanging out is higher than, say, the probability of you hanging out with Flash from Midtown, but it could still be described as a probability, even if, you know, the probability needs to be updated every now and then. Everything always comes down to math if you try hard enough."

She rolls her eyes at him again, but somewhere, at the back of her head, Peter's words click.

And without thinking, MJ leans forward and kisses him.

Her lips brush against his for a fraction of a moment, and then she pulls away startled at herself. Peter blinks at her. 

He makes a noise in his throat and grabs her arm, pulling MJ towards him. She shifts climbing onto his lap, cupping his face in her hands.

And suddenly, everything falls into place. The knots in her stomach, the warmth in her cheeks. The way he'd look at her, and the way she'd look at him.

She laughs against Peter, and his lips leave hers. "You're laughing," he says, shaking his head at her. "I've been dying to do this for years, and you're bloody laughing."

"What's the probability of that?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

Peter splutters at her in disbelief. "Does it matter?"

"No," she says. "Not really."

And then she's kissing him again.

* * *

It's past midnight when they check into the hotel.

"One bed?" Peter had casually asked as they'd walked in, and MJ only had to smile in reply. This time, she gets to complain about the dim lights and the ugly carpet while Peter, curled up against her, laughs.

He kisses her between conversations, his eyes closed and tracing patterns on the small of her back. 

"Peter," she whispers. "Do you like me?"

She feels him laugh under her. "I do," he says. Promises. Whispers.

"I think I like you too," she mumbles.

"That's a good thing, right?"

She props herself up. "What if we break up?" she asks, and something about the way Peter's face breaks makes MJ hate herself for asking. But she needs to know. It's important to her, and she'd like to think that it's important to Peter too. She's seen first-hand what a broken relationship looks like when it comes to her parents, and MJ doesn't want to see them fall apart just because they choose wrong. 

"I want to be friends," she says firmly. "I don't want to stop being friends because of this."

She half expects him to dismiss her worries. To promise something that they both know he can't. Instead, Peter reaches up, brushing her hair off her face. 

"We'll try our best," he says, and for now, that's enough.

* * *

She can't stay away from Peter after that.

They should get home by noon at the latest, but they stop for the view and to kiss and, on occasion, make out. MJ doesn't know how she's gone so long without threading her fingers through his hair or pressing her lips against his. She doesn't know why she let go of him so quickly in uni.

She hates that they didn't get to this part sooner.

To think they've lasted half their lives being just friends. (To think that they lasted the last three days at all feels suddenly bizarre.)

They make out in the parking lot of a Pizza Hut and Peter keeps a hand on her thigh whenever he drives. They hold hands when they're walking, and he rests his head on her shoulder when they're sitting.

It's like they've forgotten how to stay apart; like they've forgotten how to let go.

And yet, even though MJ desperately wishes their trip would go on forever, they're driving through the familiar streets of Queens before the sun sets.

Four days on the road, with nobody but Peter for company, and yet, she wishes they had another day. Or two. But, before long, they're turning onto her street, her home visible in the distance. MJ can make out her parents, standing in front of the house, waiting for her, and it instantly fills her with dread.

"Promise you'll call," she says, turning to Peter. There's a sudden desperation tugging at her heart. They've got a few seconds, at most, and then she'll have to spend a week away from him.

"Text me," he says. "Whenever you need to talk."

He finds her hand and squeezes it briefly, and MJ's glad for it. For him.

The car comes to a stop, Peter's hand disappears from around hers, and MJ squeezes her eyes shut, trying to etch into her brain the way his hand felt in hers. She gets out of the car and hugs her parents hello. Peter's already got the trunk open. He gets out her suitcase, takes out the bags of toilet paper and her perfectly planned First-Aid kit that they never ended up using.

MJ grabs her backpack, unplugs her phone for the charging port up front. And, all too soon, they're done. She's left nothing of hers in the car, and Peter stands in front of her, hands buried in his pockets. MJ doesn't know what to say.

She remembers being desperate to talk the day they'd set out, and she's overwhelmed with the same need to fill the silence now. To say something and everything all at once, and even then, MJ doesn't think it'll be enough.

"I had fun," she says.

And Peter grins. "Me too," he says.

"I'm out this week but next week — swear we'll meet next week."

His mouth quirks. "I swear."

Peter steps forward, closing the gap between them, and pulls her into a bone-crushing and parent-friendly hug. MJ lets herself melt. She lets herself breathe in the scent of his cologne and feel the warmth of his arms and the way he makes her feel steady in an unsteady world.

"I'll miss you," he whispers into her ear, quiet enough that only MJ can hear.

She closes her eyes. "Me too," MJ says, and then Peter pulls away.

He gets back into the car, waves at her one last time, and, just like that, Peter's gone leaving MJ shivering from the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot write smut to save my life but imagine there's smut when they're in the hotel together.  
> This chapter was not easy to write, but I don't hate it fully? It does feel rushed at the end, but I didn't want to drag it on unnecessarily either and I have been short on time because somehow life decided to be hectic during the universal holiday season.  
> The internet was generally vague about Lake Michigan (why is Lake _Michigan_ in Chiago? Is that normal? Isn't Michigan a state too??) but I'm hoping it's where I wanted them to stop.  
> Just one more short chapter to go and then we're done with this!!  
> As always, thanks for reading!  
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fanfictioningfangirl) !


	4. christmas day (an epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts Used In This Chapter:  
> C62. Home for the Holidays  
> C63. Christmas morning  
> D59. "Merry Christmas."

There are a dozen texts from Peter when MJ wakes up. There have been every day since they came back, and it puts a smile on her face before she even gets out of bed. Today is extra special though. 

She's giddy all through breakfast, and it has little to do with the boxes of gifts sitting under the tree. She got back to Queens yesterday afternoon, and Peter got back home last night.

It's been a week since they were last in the same town, and that isn't much in the grand scheme of things, but somehow, it still feels like too long. Sure, she texted Peter constantly, and they'd call most nights, talking about anything and everything. But it'll be different being together again. It'll be better.

MJ has spent the better part of her week thinking over and over again of their trip back to Queens. Her cheeks still go warm when she thinks of the first night he'd curled up against her, and her heart yearns to kiss him again and again and again. MJ absolutely hates that she had to leave for Manhattan the day after they got back and she's more than determined to make the most of it now.

The morning seems to drag out endlessly. Her Mom refuses to let MJ leave until home well after lunch, and though she's more annoyed than giddy by then, she's practically on the verge of exploding when she texts Peter at three.

_ 'The park near Midtown,' _ he writes back seconds after MJ texts him. She's out before her Mom gets to tell MJ to stay back home.

\--

Peter's waiting for her across the road, hands in his pockets and all bundled up.

She's beaming the moment she spots him; her smile refusing to vanish even when she tries desperately to push it back. He looks up, just as she's crossing, and MJ swears it feels like the world stops.

Like, for a moment, it's just the two of them.

Then a car honks loudly, and MJ jogs off the road stopping right in front of him, more than aware of the deafening way in which her heart is beating and of how she just cannot seem to stop smiling at him.

"Hey," she says, sounding out of breath.

"Hey you," Peter says, and he pulls her into a quick, too-short hug. "Merry Christmas."

"Happy Random Friday."

He chuckles, and for a moment, just a moment, MJ swear it feels awkward.

MJ's spent so much of her time thinking about their trip — _ about Peter _ . She's dreamt about the way his hands feel on her, of the way his lips tasted, and the scent of his cologne. She's dreamt about today more times than she dares to admit out loud, and being here right now feels almost unreal. It's overwhelming, for a moment, to be back with him.

Peter opens his mouth like he's about to say something, then he shakes his head, turning away from her abruptly. They start walking.

"Mum sent hot chocolate," MJ says, holding out a thermos. "She insisted the moment I said I was meeting you. Something about missing you, I think."

"You think?" Peter scoffs. "She  _ definitely _ misses me."

"Oh shut up," MJ says, and she shoves him playfully. "She wants you to come over for dinner someday. Though, she hates that I left home to meet you today."

Peter gives her a side-ways look, and something about it makes her stomach knot uncomfortably and, simultaneously, makes her heart soar. She stops walking.

Peter stops too.

She's suddenly aware of the fact that they're not holding hands. That they were always holding hands when they stopped on the drive home, especially on the last day. 

"Last week sucked," she says.

"Why? Did you miss me?" There's a playful edge in his voice, and MJ rolls her eyes at him just for the sake of it.

"No," she says. "I missed your car, actually. Mom refused to play any music. It was just straight-up podcasts that we couldn't even hear because of how low she keeps the volume. And apparently, you're not  _ supposed _ to stop every few miles just because everything around you is pretty."

"So you missed my music?" Peter asks, and this time, MJ wraps an arm around his waist, tugging Peter closer. If only because it feels odd that they're not holding hands right now. (And because holding hands doesn't feel like enough.)

"Yes."

He wraps his arms around her too.

"And my driving?"

She looks at him, and even though she knows they're half hugging, MJ's surprised by how close he is. She can feel his breath tickling her skin each time he talks, and it's making her heart go wild. It takes an effort to keep her voice level when she replies.

"Your ability to stop driving when there's a view. Yes."

"And my car?"

MJ narrows her eyes at him. "Sure," she says.

"Well, I'm afraid we're a package deal. All of the above and, well, me." He sounds proud when he says it. He's grinning at her like an idiot, and it takes MJ a second to realise that she's staring at his lips. Her gaze darts up, meeting his. Peter seems to understand exactly what she wants to do because he leans forward and kisses her — half on her mouth, half on her cheek, and MJ giggles against him.

"Dork," she mutters as Peter tries again, the thermos pressed against her back, his other hand on her arm, pulling her flush against him. His lips are soft when they find her this time. Soft and gentle, and she's dimly aware of how warm Peter is despite the cold.

She doesn't want to let go, MJ decides. Both now and in general.

"Want to come over?" he whispers.

"Tomorrow," MJ says. Tomorrow, and day after and the day after that if he'll have her. She pulls away, resting her head on Peter's shoulder, nose pressed against his neck. "Mum will want me at home today."

"Right. Of course."

She doesn't move. Peter doesn't move either. He's still holding her arm, his other hand on her back. She feels him rest his head on top of hers, and MJ smiles. She doesn't _ want _ to move.

Somewhere, from one of the pockets in her jacket, her phone buzzes and MJ swears under her breath. It's her Mom.

"I should—"

"Yeah," Peter whispers. "You should."

"Tomorrow," she promises, and this time she takes a step back, instantly missing Peter's touch.

She hasn't looked away yet. Hasn't taken a second step. Suddenly, something in MJ snaps, and all at once, Peter's holding onto her and he's kissing her again. Gentle at first, and then with an intensity that makes her cling onto him. Her hands find his neck, her fingers threading through his short hair. For a moment, it feels like Peter's the only real thing in the world. Like he's the only one who matters.

"Tomorrow," he echoes, and MJ nods.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

This time, she gets two steps away. Then three. Then four. She glances over her shoulder, and Peter's walking away from her at snail's pace.

"Oy, Peter?" He turns so quickly MJ's surprised he doesn't lose his balance. "How are you going back to Stanford?"

He grins. "I don't know," he says, and MJ can tell he's trying to say it innocently. She already knows what's coming next. (What she's made him think of just by asking about their journey back.)

"What would you say if I offered to drive us down?"

She says yes.

Obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! I won't lie, chapter 2 is my favourite out of the lot, but I like the ending too! I know this chapter is short - I'm honestly surprised chapter 3 wasn't shorter, but we're officially done and I can finally hibernate now!  
> I wrote this fic in a single sitting and was mortified, to say the least, when I saw the word count. It's gone from what should have been a short, 2k word fic to something much longer.  
> As always, thanks for reading and if you've stuck around and read through four chapters of my nonsense, then thanks a lot.  
> Happy Holidays, and I hope all of you have a great New Year! (I hope we get to go out in 2021. Or, at least meet people from The Outside.) I probably won't post anything else till 2021 but you can always find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fanfictioningfangirl) !


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